


Descant, Discourse, and Discord

by epherians



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Arguing, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon Compliant, Canon Dialogue, Character Study, Gen, Missing Scene, Misunderstandings, Not A Fix-It, Relationship Study, Spoilers, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8299988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epherians/pseuds/epherians
Summary: And then Evie remembers the letter. Maxwell Roth’s invitation.Jacob says he’s not going, but of course she should trust him to actually follow his word.Evie Frye during the events of Sequence 8, leading into Sequence 9. Spoilers for the endgame of Assassin’s Creed Syndicate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was begun at the beginning of the year. I used to think it was about Maxwell Roth and Sequence 8, but it's neither of those things. It's really about the fallout between the Frye twins by the last sequence, and that's how I finally got around to revising it.
> 
> Special thank you to [Tea_Logic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_Logic/pseuds/Tea_Logic) for beta reading! I wouldn't have gotten anywhere on this fic without someone's feedback, that's how stuck I was for the longest time.

Lord Cardigan has been assassinated, if the red strike on the wall is anything to go by. Seems like Jacob got his way into Parliament, weakening Starrick’s hold on politics and possibly all authority in London now.

Thankfully for Evie, there doesn’t seem to be much uproar that would cause the government to collapse in on itself, or at least nothing in that sector she has to swoop in and save. She doesn’t have time to fix Jacob’s mistakes anymore; there’s too much worry on her end regarding her situation with the Shroud.

That she is no longer on speaking terms with Mr. Green is but the forefront of it.

Without any leads, any idea on when she can speak with the Maharajah, or even the presence of Miss Thorne—ever the rival who was always ahead for her to follow—the search has come to a standstill. Evie finds there is not much she can do now, but at the rate Jacob is proceeding in taking down the Templars, it’s only a matter of time before Starrick makes his move. (And even then, she’s not ready to think about what type of action the Grand Master will take to secure his hold on London.)

As she examines the assassination wall, Evie notes that nearly all of Starrick’s associates have been eliminated. Only one last figure remains…and he’s made his identity readily known in that letter for Jacob.

“A dinner invitation,” her brother identifies.

“And with whom will you be dining this evening?” she asks.

“Maxwell Roth.”

“The leader of the Blighters? You’re not going.”

He assures her, “Of course not.”

 

* * *

 

She doesn’t want Jacob marching straight into the hands of the enemy. Evie has never seen Roth, or heard of what he does besides holding performances at his music hall, but for the Blighters to become a threat to the innocents of London, their leader would have to be unkindly cunning, if not more so than the gang leaders she and Jacob have faced. Nevertheless, her brother’s affairs are his own to settle, so Evie doesn't pay anymore attention to the letter. It's not entirely crucial to the main mission at hand.

Not having anything to investigate on the Shroud or speak to Mr. Green about means Evie is actually left with little to do and too much time to waste it with. She wouldn't object to having a day for respite, because it's been a while since she opted to stay home and relax herself. The other option is…to join Jacob. Which she quickly shoots away.

He wouldn’t let her, not after she told him to back off at the Monument. That was foolish of her, she realizes now, driving her brother away when they were almost always working on missions together. Well, if it was for crippling the gangs. The Templar conspiracy still had them working separately and in different areas far apart, and now she can’t picture where Jacob would be at this time. (Probably out wrecking the streets in a race or getting into some mad brawl with the Rooks, anything where he can run and roam free in London because _of course_ that's why he came here—)

As the train pulls into St. Pancras, Evie’s attention is suddenly snapped up to the frightful scene at the loading bay. Police are scouring the area, alarmed at the litter of massacred bodies clad in uniforms red and green— _Blighters and Rooks._ Though the gang members themselves don’t seem to feel it chaotic, because several of the Rooks promptly reboard the train in good, merry spirits. She hears from their tales that several loads of dynamite were detonated, but otherwise no alarming damage was caused to the station.

Evie can't help but wonder if Jacob had something to do with that brutish display. If he was, then he doesn’t seem to show it. Her brother swoops back onto the train a few miles later, feigning that he’s simply had an eventful night out on the Strand, and bids goodnight for bed (with that ever delightful smile and an undercurrent of smugness and mischief that doesn't really cover up what he thinks she doesn't know).

 

* * *

 

The next day, Jacob leaves the train without so much as informing anyone of his agenda. Not his sister, not Mr. Green, not even the Rooks.

That he wouldn’t direct his _gang_ on their work for the day is most startling. Even if Jacob was so fixated on following a lead on the Templars, he would still have time to delegate tasks or coordinate plans with some Rooks, especially if he needed to make a getaway from the scene of an assassination. Today brings only silence, and it’s far too early to ask anyone for Jacob’s whereabouts.

Or at least, not too early to ask about what happened last night.

When Evie inquires after her brother, some of the Rooks in the dining car answer about the skirmish at St. Pancras. Storming in to “clean house” against the Blighters and cause general mayhem.

That explains the litter of corpses, as if the borough had a second gang war. “What happened after that?” The older twin asks next.

The Rooks all shake heads. “I don’t know, Miss,” says the one who recounted the events. “He ordered us to stay out of the area…”

“And then he blew up the dynamite in there!” Another member helpfully adds. Evie tries not, in that moment, to voice her annoyed reaction.

“You forgot,” a third Rook interjects, “he grabbed some conductor and forced him to drive out one of the trains!”

“He wouldn't need to steal a train if he was on his own,” Evie deduces. “Did you see who he was working with?”

The response is reluctant. The green-clad members look down as they mumble, “'fraid not.”

It gives Evie her confirmation: Jacob blew up dynamite and beat up Templars at the station. How typical of him. But why? What for!? Why would Jacob be wreaking havoc while she and Mr. Green were still recovering from their own failed heist? Did he really have nothing better to do after assassinating all the leading Templars? Or did he think by running amok and tearing down the city, Starrick would show up at their train, asking to join them for tea?

She sits on the couch and looks at the assassination wall, seven of nine portraits crossed out in red with only two targets remaining—

And then Evie remembers the letter. Maxwell Roth’s invitation.

Jacob says he’s not going, but of course she should trust him to actually follow his word.

 

* * *

 

She tries to focus on something else in the interim, like looking aimlessly through papers at her desk—useless if they can’t find that map—before walking between carriages to distract herself from her thoughts. Evie can’t sit still on what is happening with Jacob. He was ever the brother to go seeking trouble, and this city was a right place to hold all kinds of messes gone wrong. In the end, Evie would have to go after him and fix everything, would she not?

So she takes her search to the streets, looking for Jacob or any leads about where he has gone. In the end, the twin sister comes home with progress just like with the Shroud—one step forward, two steps back. (Hardly any steps were made at all!) Roth is unfairly good at keeping his actions a secret from his pursuers.

Jacob returns to the train near the end of the day with a hum and a skip. Evie greets him as usual from her seat.

“Had an adventure today, Jacob?”

He tips his hat, yet never looks her in the eyes. “Perhaps you could say that.”

So Evie has to play this game. “Another engagement? Seems to be very important, considering you haven't told us anything about what you've done for the past three days.”

“I suppose it is!” Jacob agrees, oddly, while continuing to amble around the room. “But overall, is it any different from what you and Greenie keep mum about ‘research’ and ‘artifacts’? Nothing you should get your feathers all ruffled over.” The pretension of happiness spills in the light-hearted tone of his voice. “Anyhow, I’ll be going to bed. Can’t wait to get tomorrow’s work underway! Sweet dreams, sister.”

They aren’t much on speaking terms these days, not since Evie drew the line at the crisis with the Bank (which Jacob is surely not sorry about). And yet, the reason she came to London was because of Jacob. Was it only months ago they were teaming to take down the Blighters in each borough? At what price did they have to win the war, be it conquering London or protecting the creed? What was it all for?

 

* * *

 

She stays in bed, eyes shut until she hears the rustling sound of another occupant. And now she has her brother cornered.

“Good morning, Jacob. Care to tell me what you’re up to?” Evie asks simply.

Jacob keeps a stamped smile as he puts on his coat and hat. “I’ve got somewhere to be today,” he hums. “And you can rest your heart easy because I won’t be needing your help at all.”

“Oh really? That’s good to hear,” Evie responds, mimicking his delusional, honeyed speech. The twin sister waits a few innocent seconds before speaking exactly what she’s waited for. “I suppose Maxwell Roth is eating out of your hand now.”

The mood stills, and all pretension drops flat and dead. Jacob has a sneer long before he turns around to face her, but then he turns again and doesn’t look at his sister after all.

“I don’t snoop around your business, do you have to put your nose in mine?”

“It becomes my business once I find out you’ve lied to me,” she tells him straightforwardly.

“Well, did you think I would ignore an enemy gang leader if he readily wanted to show himself? We’ve never known who he was or what he looked like, so I’d say he’s saving us the work of tracking him the long way!”

“A leader of the gang we’re fighting can only be up to no good!”

“We both want to overthrow Starrick, Evie, and Roth has ways to weaken him more than I can!”

“Oh of course, because you haven’t damaged the city enough for Starrick to notice? What are you even doing now?” Her voice rises. “Are you just looking for trouble instead of actually focusing on the mission at hand?”

“I _am_ focusing on the mission at hand!” He says in annoyance. “Unlike you, trying to get all involved in something that keeps escaping yours!”

Evie groans at dealing with her petulant sibling. “When Starrick finds out his agents are dead, he’ll be after those responsible. We don’t even know where he is, and you think we’re ready?”

“Then we’ll go meet him where he is and take him down!” Jacob counters. “I thought that was the whole purpose of why we came here? To take back London?!”

“Yes, but the way you're going about it is so unruly we can hardly tell what we’re doing next!”

“What's this ‘we’ nonsense? I’ve been doing all the work myself, and _you_ have the right to chastise me?”

“Then you’d better finish what you’ve started!” Evie shuts down. “I won’t have a part in this anymore.”

Jacob gets up and leaves the train in a huff. Evie doesn’t follow. Really, she should, but against all protest of common sense locked away in her head, she grows annoyed at the idea, and elects to stay put.

 

* * *

 

It’s late afternoon when Jacob comes back onto the train, holding an ornate box and bearing the smell of **fire** —from the soot covering his face, to the singed tips of his hair and clothes.

Immediately, the question of what he has done raises her attention. “Jacob…”

He walks past without a cursory glance. “This doesn’t concern you, Evie.”

“You have the scent of ash all over you. Why were you in a fire?”

Jacob stops, and his grip around the box tenses. “I couldn’t possibly explain that to you,” he says in a low voice.

“I’m sure you can’t.” Evie shakes her head. “What was your grand plan with Roth this time? Set buildings ablaze, I bet-”

“What does it matter what you think!” Jacob exclaims, and all tension snaps. “I don’t have time listening to you berate me over and over-”

“Clearly you never heed my advice because you always go toppling half the city anyway!”

“Look, I realized my mistake, okay!? Roth’s gonna be at the theatre tonight, and I will stop him so we can be done with this!” Jacob abruptly tries to shove past his sister.

“Let me know when you're done so I can come in with the Fire Brigade,” Evie can't help but chime.

And that makes her brother reach a breaking point. “Leave me alone!” he shouts. “I'm so sick and tired of you always bothering me all the time! MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!”

His fury pierces through the heat in the air and past a line that was never supposed to be crossed.

There comes a point in their squabbling where something irreversible is said. No longer is there a sign of annoyed disagreement, but full-on disdain and offense. And they can't go back on that, can they?

“Get out, Jacob!” Evie screams, and she doesn’t bother saying it quietly the first time. She points at the door with nothing but seething hope that the harshness of her words keep ringing in her foolish brother’s ears.

Jacob is more than happy to oblige.

 

* * *

 

After he leaves, the train is (deathly) silent again. It’s a much needed relief knowing others like Agnes, Nigel, or the Rooks aren’t onboard the train at present. The situation with the Templars is already difficult, but explaining why she and her brother are having a domestic is even more so.

That’s all they’ve been doing for the past few days, isn’t it? Fighting. All because they’ve gone separate ways to fulfill the same mission. Perhaps the saying is true to keep friends close and enemies closer, because family may be the closest.

The letter that came with the box confirms all Evie’s needed to know—Jacob Frye is a terrible liar.

> _**My dearest Jacob.** Alas, it seems **our adventures have come to a close.** Although **our time together was brief** , it's left a lasting mark. I wish you well in all your future endeavors._
> 
> _Cordially, **Maxwell.**_
> 
> _Postscriptum: **I'm putting on a show this evening.** All of London will be there. Enclosed, please find your invitation._

“Care to explain the commotion between you and your brother just now?” Mr. Green asks, breaking the silence. He’s entered the carriage not long after Jacob’s departure, though with the air of bleakness in the room, it could’ve been ages since the events that transpired and Evie would barely understand what just happened.

She swallows a deep breath before composing herself. “Jacob’s going after Roth tonight. And he made it specifically clear I am not invited.”

“That will be the last of Starrick’s top brass,” the Assassin leader points out matter-of-factly. “All that’s left is to confront the Grand Master in question.”

“I understand that,” she grits. It’s almost like receiving Father’s lectures again, where she could do nothing but admit her mistake and take penance for it accordingly.

“What are your plans, Miss Frye?” The way Mr. Green asks, it is no longer of intimate concern. He speaks stoically, in a voice she’s never heard sound stern and distant.

Evie sighs, conceding defeat. “We wait for Starrick…to take the fight to the Assassins. Perhaps he’ll send word of his plans, because we clearly have none.”

The fight is already over before it has been won.

 

* * *

 

She hears the news because it travels like the wildfire it speaks of. As the train pulls into the Strand, Evie hears a commotion of fear and panic, a crowd in fright from the Alhambra’s disastrous burning. This is the final straw with her damned brother.

With only Starrick remaining, he will be out for the Shroud and the two Assassins who destroyed his Order. Evie never wanted Jacob to act so quickly; they needed to find the Shroud first so they could have the upper hand over the Templars. But it’s all too late. Crawford Starrick will find them soon enough, and they don’t know his location or method of action. Time keeps ticking for a situation out of their control and Evie fears this the most.

Jacob smells of soot and ash as soon as he steps in, and the connection between her brother and the burning music hall couldn’t be farther from the truth.

She is all but ready to shoot vitriol like her pistol, to ask why her brother had to burn down a building in the name of his latest conquest, but he doesn't entertain any questions. Jacob goes straight to the assassination wall and furiously, frustratingly crosses out Roth’s portrait in red. He then returns to his couch with a silent, yet clamorous declaration that he is going to bed.

Evie knows Jacob lets action speak louder than words, and it’s carried true until now. A part of her wants to ask what was going on, concerned by the harassed mood of her brother when he rejoined the train. But her frustration with him weighs more, and with every reckless move he’s made, he almost doesn’t deserve her attention or sympathy.

Not another word is spoken between them.

 

* * *

 

No, Evie doesn't want to see Jacob or speak to him. She stays huddled in bed, covered stubbornly in blankets in the hopes her twin brother will leave her alone. It's a move straight out of time as a child, except this time the stakes are piling and worsening for London as time goes on.

Why had they ever thought they were ready? They never were, Evie miserably tells herself.

But as she wakes, she finds Jacob absent, his coat and hat gone from the rack but the red strike on Roth's portrait still freshly there. Instead, Mr. Green awaits with sour news.

“The Templars have already acquired the plans. Buckingham Palace. Only Starrick will know the specific location of the Shroud.”

Evie has no words.

“Starrick will have nothing in the way of what he wants,” Mr. Green warns, “and he knows that. Only one course of action is appropriate at this point.” They look at the assassination wall: eight portraits crossed in red, with only one Grand Master remaining.

Well, what do they have to wait for? Oh- they have to wait for Jacob, unless he brightly decided to take on Starrick so the lovebirds could make their nest!

“Will you and your brother go after him?”

She and her brother…she and Jacob. Did they deserve to stay together at this point? There’s no way they could continue like this, not when Jacob preferred to keep running free and leaving Evie in the lurch. But it would be unwise to say this in front of Mr. Green, who is expecting nothing but a serious solution at this point. “That depends on where my brother has gone to. If he knew how important this consequence was, he would’ve arrived by now.”

 

* * *

 

Evie doesn’t leave the train. There’s no time to waste outside, not with the heavy weight in her head that Starrick is going to claim the Shroud, dismembered Templar Order be damned. All their work has come to nothing if the Grand Master acquires that artifact, and Evie doesn’t know who is at more fault for allowing this calamity to happen.

Jacob takes forever to show up. When he does, he merely hangs his hat on the rack. He continues to ignore his sister, and that infuriates her more than anything.

“You’re late,” she says, breaking the silence. “Starrick is making his move. The Piece of Eden is somewhere inside Buckingham Palace.”

He looks at her with tiredness, exhaustion in his gaunt face, and sadness in his eyes. “Let him have it.” Resignation.

(Sometimes she questions her brother’s commitment to what he decides.) “I've seen your handiwork across the city,” Evie snipes. “Perhaps you should trust my judgment.”

And Jacob suddenly scoffs. “I’ve been killing Starrick’s henchmen, what have _you_ been doing?” he snarks. “Let’s ask Henry, shall we?”

“I’ve been repairing your mistakes!” she shoots back. “Too much haste is too little speed!”

“Don’t you quote Father at me-”

“That’s Plato! And I am sorry this doesn't involve anything you can destroy.” Oh, it sets off something the older twin had kept pent up. “Father was right, he never approved of your methods!”

“FATHER IS DEAD!” Jacob shouts, and that makes something sting in Evie’s eyes.

Henry intervenes—“ _Enough!_ ”—and their attention darts to the third party. “I have just received word from my spies. At the palace ball tonight, Starrick plans to steal the Piece of Eden and then eliminate all the heads of church and state.”

Tonight. They won't have much time. Already, breaking into the palace seems impossible, but the sooner they complete this, the better. It’ll be the end of Starrick, the end of London’s wretched fate, and the end of their own personal agony as twins who shouldn’t have to be twins.

Even still, the air is thicker and more unpleasant than before, but it’s familiar, not foreign. Perhaps the only time the Frye twins will see eye to eye is on the mutual promise of separation. Jacob does the honors of laying down the truce.

“Once more for old times’ sake?”

“And then we’re _finished._ ”

“ _Agreed._ So what’s the plan?”


End file.
